


Possession

by slushmucky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demonic Possession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slushmucky/pseuds/slushmucky
Summary: Cas won't be able to track Sam but he might be able to track the damn demons. He pulls out his phone and pulls up Cas's number, fingers trembling with nervousness. He hates how the thought of talking to the angel makes him feel, hates how it makes him a quivering mess. But he pushes on. This is for Sam and he takes in a deep breath before putting the phone to his ear.********************************Then all he can feel is the searing hot pain as the poker touches his skin. He scrunches up his eyes, his body tenses and he screams with agony. Somewhere deep in his mind he knows what's happening. He knows they're burning his tattoo off, but at the moment he can't think past the pain, can't think past the fire burning through him.Multi-chapter. Desital.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	1. Missing Sammy

**Author's Note:**

> Brand new story. Please let me know what you think.... this is a new way of writing and I'm curious to see if I've managed to pull it off or not. Thank you.

He's missing. 

Sam has gone. He's no where. Dean has looked. 

He had been hungry and Sam had offered to go for food. At the time Dean had just been grateful for the gesture, too tired to move from the bed. But its been hours and he's nowhere to be found. This is suppose to be a simple hunt, one or two demons at best. 

Dean can feel the panic building inside him as he brings the phone to his ear once more, as he pushes the peddle to the floor of the Impala. Where could he be? The phone rings and rings and rings. He throws it into the passenger seat with such force, it bounces. The frustration and the helplessness is crawling through his veins, making him restless. He has to do something, anything. He needs to know where his brother is. If anything happens to him…

He can't finish that thought. Won't allow it. He will not lose his brother, not ever again. It won't happen. He forces the car to go faster, his head swinging from left to right, his eyes darting from person to person, from car to car, from object to object. 

But he's nowhere. 

He decides to head back to the motel, perhaps Sam got held up. Perhaps the reason he's not answering his phone is because he switched it to vibrate by accident. But he knows that isn't the case, he knows this because Sammy knows better than that, especially when on a hunt. 

Dean thinks back to their latest conversations and nothing gives off a red flag. He hasn't upset him, they haven't argued. So he can't be ignoring his phone calls. Deep down he knows, he knows that Sam is in trouble, he knows that he can't answer his phone, not that he won't. 

The motel comes into sight too quickly. His brother isn't outside and his heart sinks in his chest at the sight, but he still holds out hope and he parks the car, climbs out and pushes into their room. Its silent, too silent, and dark. The curtains still closed, beds unmade. 

He huffs a frustrated sigh. He can't just disappear. Its not possible. But it is. In their lives it is possible. How is he suppose to deal with this on his own? He can't. Not really. A light bulb goes off over his head. 

Cas. 

Cas won't be able to track Sam but he might be able to track the damn demons. He pulls out his phone and pulls up Cas's number, fingers trembling with nervousness. He hates how the thought of talking to the angel makes him feel, hates how it makes him a quivering mess. But he pushes on. This is for Sam and he takes in a deep breath before putting the phone to his ear. 

It only rings once before Cas answers and Dean sighs with relief, feeling instantly calm at the sound of his usual gruff voice in his ear. How does he manage to do this to him every time? He shakes his head, ridding these thoughts from his mind. He needs to think of one thing only, noting more and nothing less. “Cas. I need your help. Sam's missing. I can't find him, anywhere. I think demons have him.” 

He waits, holding his breath. He knows Cas will pull through for him, its like its in his basic nature or something. He likes that about Cas, likes how he knows when Dean really does need his help, because Dean doesn't ask for it very often. “What happened?” His voice comes out rushed, as though he can't get the words out fast enough. 

“I'm not sure. It was only suppose to be a couple of demons. But… he went for food and I haven't seen him since.” He takes a deep breath, trying to push the panic down. Now that he's spoken the words it makes it more real and he's unsure how he should handle that. 

“How long ago?” He can hear music come on in the background and then it goes silent again, an engine starts up and it instantly calms Dean again. Because he knows, he knows Cas is already on the move, already trying to get to him.

“Four hours.” 

He can almost hear Cas's frown through the phone and he allows himself a small smile at it but it drops when he remembers the purpose of the call and waits. “Where are you?” Dean tells him in a rush, hoping against all hope that he's not too far away, that they're not going to waste precious time waiting for him to get here. 

“Okay. I'm not far. Two hours away, at least, if I hurry.” Dean lets out a relieved sigh at that, its better than he thought it would be. 

He hangs up the phone, and looks around the empty hotel room. What's he suppose to do now? He glances around, catches sight of Sam's laptop on the table and rushes towards it, almost tripping over his feet. He pushes open the lid and starts typing. He doesn't know what he's looking for but he can't sit there and do nothing. It makes him feel sick as he thinks about what his brother would say seeing him sat there, using his things. It makes him sick because Sam isn't there to reprimand him about it, isn't there to give him a bitch face like he's a small child doing something incredibly wrong. 

Of course his searches come up empty, just like they did for his brother. There's no signs as to where they could be, nothing, and he wants to throw the damn computer through the window. He refrains though, knowing that when – not if – he gets Sammy back he wouldn't be too pleased at coming home to a broken laptop. 

Instead he gets up and starts to pace the length of the room, dodging his dirty clothes and empty beer bottles from last night. He twists his hands together as the restlessness returns. He couldn't just stay there and do nothing, but he has to, for Cas. Cas would be here soon. 

He looks at the clock on the wall. Its been an hour. Another hour to wait. He opens the door to the motel and steps out. The sun is bright and he has to squint at first. When his eyes adjust to the light, he looks up and down the street, hoping to see his brother walk round the corner at any moment. But he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He sighs and walks back into the stuffy motel room. Its the middle of summer and the room is hotter than outside. 

The pacing begins again. He thinks about grabbing a beer, but he knows he needs to stay sober to get his brother back. Suddenly there's a knock at the door. The hope springs forth but he tramples it down. Sam wouldn't knock. But it might be Cas. He glances at the clock again – its been another hour and ten minuets. It could be him. 

Cautiously he closes the gap between him and the door, his hand going to his gun that currently sits in the back of his jeans. He grips it tightly, firmly, and peers through the peep hole in the door. He lets out a relieved sigh as he catches a glimpse of the angel. He swings the door open and smiles. Dean knows he shouldn't be smiling, knows that this isn't the time, but the relief at seeing him is overwhelming. He pulls Cas into a hug, patting his back.

Ignoring the way it makes him feel to hold him, to see him again, because frankly its been too long since they had seen each other, he just grips harder, saying, “Its good to see you, man.” 

The feeling of Cas's arms wrapping around him awkwardly makes him almost moan with relief. Because Cas is happy to see him too. Of course he is. They're friends and they haven't seen each other in forever. They talk on the phone, little updates about what the other has been doing, but that's it. And Dean hates to admit it, but at the moment he doesn't care, he's really missed him. 

Knowing that the hug has gone on for too long, he pulls away and avoids eye contact at all cost, waving the angel into the room. He hears the soft shutting of the door and finally turns to face him. Dean keeps his eyes firmly on Cas's chest, still unable to look him the eye. It was awkward, clinging to Cas like that, but it had also felt right and safe and perfect. 

Clearing his throat, he finally says. “So, did you sense anything on the way in? Any demons about?” 

Cas tilts his head and frowns slightly and Dean almost bursts out laughing at the familiar sight. “No, I'm sorry.” 

Dean shakes his head. The demons probably knew that he'd call Cas, probably prepared for the eventuality, probably warded themselves against him. It was too much to ask. He sits heavily on the motel bed and sighs with tiredness. He's exhausted everything he knows and he's now feeling lost. Cas kneels before him and places his hand on Dean's knee. 

The warmth makes him gasp, which he somehow manages to muffle with another cough. For the first time since Cas got here, he looks him straight in the eye. He can see the sadness and the helplessness there and he wants to wipe it all away because, damn him to hell, he hates the sight of it. Hates it because it has no business being there on such a beautiful face, in such beautiful eyes. 

“We'll find him,” Cas says softly and Dean believes him. Cas will make sure he gets Sam home to him, he will make sure they are both safe. He feels his heart burst with joy at the thought that Cas cares that much to help, that he can put aside his own problems to be here with him. 

He nods his acceptance, a small pinch of doubt enters his mind. They don't know where to begin. They don't know where he is. But at least he's not alone, dealing with this on his own. Cas is here to help. His friend. His family. He couldn't have asked for anything better. 

They are going to find Sam, even it is the last thing they do. 

\- Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural -

He can't see. Darkness all around him. He looks left and then right, but nothing. He's bound to a chair, he thinks, and he struggles against the rope, trying to free himself. But there's no movement and he finally gives up. 

Where is he? How long has he been here? Is Dean looking for him? All these question and more swirl round his mind as time wears on. His head is banging, his throat is dry and his stomach is rumbling. He can feel dried blood on the side of his head and figures that's probably why he has a headache. He tries to think straight, tries to think of a way out of this. 

Was that a movement over there? 

He snaps his head to where he thought he saw a movement in the shadows. But there's nothing there now. He looks to his other side, but there's nothing. Panic is slowly starting to push forward and he tries to stamp it out. There is no room for panic here. He has to be smart, he has to be willing to do anything to get out of here alive. 

Sudden brightness and he squeezes his eyes shut against it, feeling the sting of it. He can hear footsteps and alarm bells go off in his head,. Because they aren't his brother's or Cas's, they are a woman's footsteps. He can hear the clink of the heels against hard floor and his heart sinks because whatever this woman wants it can't be good. Its never good. 

He forces his eyes open, ignoring the initial stinging and glances at the woman that's coming towards him. She's beautiful. All blonde hair, big boobs, and long legs. But he ignores that and concentrates on the evil smile on her red lips. Because she's not human, far from it and he's her prisoner. 

She comes to a stop just out of reach from him. He hates her already and gives her his best glare. “Hi, Sammy. You can call me Christie.” 

“I – I don't care what your called.” His voice sounds funny, scratchy, but he doesn't break the fierceness that's in his eyes. He doesn't allow his weakness to show. He remembers the knife that's in his sock and decides to wait, wait for the opportune moment. 

She just smiles down at him, hand on hip. “Aw, don't be like that. You and me are going to become really, really good friends.” 

Sam lets out a small, sarcastic chuckle at that. “I doubt it.” 

Christie comes forward and sits on his lap, wrapping her arms round his neck. He feels repulsed as he inhales her perfume and she inches her face forward, that damn smile is still there. “Oh but we are, Sammy. You and me are going to become really close.” 

He frowns at that. Not liking the sound of it one bit. She places a wet kiss on his cheek and he grimaces at the feel of it, at the feel of the lipstick stain he's sure is there. She climbs off him and looks over her shoulder. Five other demons are now in the room, all men, not that it matters much. Somehow he manages to avoid the panic from crossing his face. Whatever happens now, he will not come out of this in one piece. 

He sends out a silent goodbye to his brother, apologizing for being so stupid. 

The demons come forward, all five of them, circling him. Then he's free and being shoved to the hard floor. It hurts his back, but he fights, he fights with everything he has in him. He will not go willingly, he will not allow them to do whatever it is they are going to do. His brother would never forgive him if he didn't. But its also not in his nature to go quietly. 

He can feel two demons kneeling on his arms, one on each. He can feel two demons doing the same to his legs. The woman, Christie, sits upon his waist and smiles down at him. Its not evil. Just smug. He bucks his hips, moves his arms, kicks his legs. But its all pointless. He's not going anywhere and they know it. 

Briefly he remembers the final demon and he stills all movements, and glances to where he can see him. He's walking towards him and he's holding a hot poker in his hand. The words come back to him, muffled in his brain, but they come all the same. Closer. Christie had said that and suddenly he knows what they're planning. 

He fights harder, panic surging forwards. This, he can't allow, he won't allow. Killing him is one thing, but… this. No. He won't have it. He fights and fights. The demons are no longer smiling, concentrating on keeping him still instead. The final demon is now above him and Christie is pulling his t-shirt down as her legs grips his waist to keep him steady or to keep herself steady, Sam's not sure which. 

Then all he can feel is the searing hot pain as the poker touches his skin. He scrunches up his eyes, his body tenses and he screams with agony. Somewhere deep in his mind he knows what's happening. He knows they're burning his tattoo off, but at the moment he can't think past the pain, can't think past the fire burning through him. 

Finally, finally, the pain stops and the cool air hits him. He slowly opens his eyes, relaxing his body. He glances at where his tattoo use to be and sees nothing but burnt flesh. He can smell it too and it makes him feel sick, makes him want to vomit. But he gets a glimpse of the demon bitch above him and watches with something close to horror as she slowly opens her mouth. 

Black smoke escapes, swirling and twirling through the air. Sam instantly clamps his mouth shut, now on the same page as these demons. Its no use. The smoke pushes his lips apart with ease and then he's choking, tasting nothing but smoke and ash and he wants to hurl it back up, but he can't because its forcing its way down his throat. 

His eyes are forced shut and so is his mouth. When they open again he can see clearly, can still feel the pain in his chest, but its too dull to care about it. Then he pushes the limp body of the girl off him. He sits up, but it doesn't seem like he's sitting up, it feels like someone else. Then he's standing and he can't remember moving. He wants to fight the demons that are now staring at him, want to charge them. He's free and he's got his weapon in his sock. But when he tries to make his limbs work, they don't obey and realisation comes to him. He's possessed by this Christie bitch if that's her real name. 

The demon inside him laughs, using his voice, it sounds wrong in his voice. Then he speaks. But its not really him and he knows this. All he can do is watch, watch as he moves, watch as she slaps a demon for being careless. He can't do nothing to stop it. Nothing. 

He can feel her smile and he hates it, hates it so much he wants to claw at his own face. “Let's go and catch us another Winchester, shall we?” His voice says. 

And he screams and claws at the demon. He screams till his throat is raw. He claws at her till he's a bleeding mess on the inside. He fights and fights her. He won't let her get to Dean, he won't allow it. But she just laughs at him. 

“Don't worry, Sammy. We'll be gentle. I promise.” 

That just makes him scream harder.


	2. It's too much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains descriptions of torture but nothing too descriptive.

The smell is like nothing new to him, metallic. Its strong as he breathes it in. He can feel it coating his skin, thick and sticky. It makes him want to vomit, can feel the sensation push up from his stomach. The demon doesn't allow that, laughing in his face, pushing the urge back down deep.

She makes him see it all. All the carnage that they have created together. So many bodies. Torn apart for the sheer pleasure of it. That's all it was. Pleasure. She had torn at these bodies like it was just any ordinary day, twisting and scraping along their insides. And she had made him watch it all. Ten bodies altogether. Ten humans. Ages ranging from the young to the old. It doesn't matter who they were, not to her. While he wants to be sick from it all, she laughs a wicked laugh, revelling in his torment.

This is what she calls art, beautiful art, they made together. Sam stays silent, no idea what he's suppose to say to it. She whispers in his ear, promising that this is just the beginning. Once word breaks out that she has a Winchester right where he should be, causing all of this, she will be reward in ways no one can imagine, she will be deemed a hero. He doesn't agree with her. He doesn't know what he's suppose to do with that information.

He at one point tries to mention his brother. Perhaps with all of this mess behind them, and ahead of them, she might forget her mission to get to him. He can't bring himself to say the words. Not in the end. What if she remembers? What if it ends up being his fault that he goes to him?

The fresh air of the night kisses his skin, she allows him to feel this. A small reprieve to what else he has been feeling. New promises are made, promises of what's going to happen when they reach his brother, what she would love to do to him. He wants to fight, wants to scream. Of course, she hasn't forgotten, this is just a warm up. Everything between here and there is pure lust. When they reach Dean, the real work will begin. She describes it as love.

She moves down the road, humming a tune he can't quite place, its familiar and homely. Is it a tune Dean plays? Its annoying and he wants to yell at her to shut up, he doesn't. He stays mute. He knows she's trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get something out of him, some reaction. After everything his body had just done, he can't bring himself to do anything but sit quietly in his own mind.

At some point he feels a few drops of rain upon his cheeks and the smell of heated water springs up his nostrils. The smell of summer rain always brought him pleasure, always made him pause and take in the serene moment. Now, the summer rain will always remind him of this night. Something else she has taken away from him.

He can feel her smirk at him, a knowing, evil one. She got something, just a flinch, but something. She starts to whisper in his ear again, promising that they have a few more stops before they reach the main event.

Sam wants to be sick again.

-Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural

Dean flips his phone shut with a small, defeated sigh. Another name crossed off the list. He has spent the past two hours, since Cas's arrival calling round all his hunter buddies. No one has heard or seen anything. Its worrying.

He turns to face Cas, who is standing in the middle of the room. They had decided it best to ring round all the hunters Dean knows before resorting to the angels. The more names they cross off the list, the more they are angling to reaching out to the few angels that _might_ talk to Cas. He can't let him do it, though, even if it is for Sammy. He hasn't voiced this yet, no point shooting something down if it doesn't need to be shot down. The longer this goes on though, the closer the argument gets.

Cas lets his own sigh pass through his lips. Dean can see the frustration behind his eyes, mirroring his own. They are getting nowhere doing this. They need to find Sammy before anything happens. What if he's dead already? They have both thought it. The reason behind anything bad taking one of them alive is usually to draw the other one in. Its been hours and nothing. There is nothing right about this. This isn't the usual abduction and they both know it.

“Dean, I think I need-”

“No!” Dean practically yells. He still has two names left. He starts pressing buttons on his phone again, bringing up the next name when he feels a hand grip his firmly. The touch is warm and it sends a spark shooting up his arm. His eyes graze up the tan coat, rolling upwards till he reaches the blue eyes. His heart leaps to his throat at the close proximity.

“Tell me why. You have exhausted your contacts. Now its time to try mine.” Cas releases his arm but maintains eye contact, refusing to release Dean from its hold.

“Because you haven't got any contacts. All the angels hate you, remember?” Dean tries to keep the venom from his voice. It doesn't work and Cas recoils away from it, his face scrunching up in pain. The guilt swarms his insides and he pushes it down before it can gets its claws in deep.

“You don't know that.” Cas's voice is full of the pain and Dean can't help but soften his own features. He knows how much this hurts the angel, knows how much guilt he is dealing with after the fall. The last thing he needs is Dean making it worse for him.

Dean rubs a hand across his face, releasing the tension there. “Sorry. Its just… you're right. I don't know but its not a risk I wanna take. Sam's missing and I can't… I just can't lose you, too.”

The pain on Cas's face immediately vanishes, replaced by understanding. Good. Dean really doesn't want to go into detail as to why it would hurt so much to lose him. He can't go there… ever. “Okay. We'll figure something else out, then.”

Dean offers him a small smile, thanking him. “While I make this call, you can figure out what that something else is.” Cas nods and Dean puts the phone to his ear.. It rings and rings. Dean leaves a hurried message before moving to the last number.

With frustration, he throws his phone across the room. It hits the headboard of the bed and lands softly on the mattress. The last contact didn't know anything either. He must have left half a dozen messages, maybe there is some hope. He turns to face Cas who is watching him with weary eyes. Dean huffs, a sign that he doesn't want stupid questions right now and moves over to where the laptop is sitting. There has to be something else, something that doesn't involve angels. He knows the angels would have heard of something happening, he just can't risk Cas like that.

He opens up the search bar and starts searching local news. There has to be something that indicates something happening. Maybe his brother has been found, seriously hurt, and is going by John Doe or something. With that thought, he jumps up from the table and grabs his phone from the bed. Its only a small town, so only one hospital and one morgue. He feels sick as he makes the calls. Sighs with frustration when the hospital hasn't got a John Doe by Sam's description or anyone matching the names he gives them. The sickness intensifies as he makes the call to the morgue and yells with increased frustration as they haven't received anyone either. Silently he's relieved that his brother isn't dead, at the same time he wants this not knowing to be over. Its like being in limbo. Is his brother hurt? Is he being tortured? Is he already dead and they just haven't found his body yet?

Another hour later, with his searches bringing up nothing, he sends Cas out to scout the town in his beaten up truck. Cas doesn't argue, of course, just leaves with a silent nod and for the first time since his arrival, Dean can feel himself breathing easier. Sometimes the compulsion to reach out and touch him in some intimate way would become so strong that he would find it difficult at times to refuse it.

He pushes all thoughts of Cas and how hopelessly in love he is with the guy to the back of his mind, to focus back on his searches. The hindrance of finding nothing pulses through his veins, wanting to throw the damn laptop through the window. Like his need for Cas, he pushes it down deep. Its his brothers toy and if he broke it… well, when he gets Sam back he wouldn't be happy.

He slams the lid shut and rubs at his tired eyes, feeling the strain weigh him down. He's sick of this continuous cycle that they so often find themselves in. Its always the same, one of them goes missing while the other moves heaven and earth to find them, a life and death situation and then everything is okay again. Not always, though. Sometimes they die, sometimes some really bad decisions are made, but they always come back on top. He's sick of it all. Is it so hard to just give them one fucking break every now and then? The worry claws its way to the forefront of his mind once more. What if this time is different? What if his brother dies and it actually sticks?

Needing a distraction, he moves across the room to where the beers are. The desperation to forget everything is forceful, so much so that he doesn't think he can hold back being sober. After staring at the bottle in his hand for a good minute, he lets out defeated sigh. He can't drink himself into oblivion, not yet. Sammy needs him sober at the moment and sober he will stay. He places the bottle back where he got it from.

His phone rings from the other side of the room. Dashing around the bed in a flurry of limbs, he answers with a curt and rushed, “Yeah?”

The voice on the other end of the phone is an old buddy of his dad's. “Heya, Dean. I got your message, sorry couldn't answer any sooner, was up to my elbows in vampire blood.” He lets out a small laugh at that. Dean would have laughed if he hadn't been so desperate for news, any kind of news. “Anyway, uh. I have heard something of the sorts.” Dean feels the pounding of his heart at those words. Finally they are getting somewhere. “Two towns over from where you're at now, a warehouse full of dead bodies was discovered about two hours ago.”

“How many?” he asks, feeling like the floor has just dropped from beneath his feet. He sits heavily on the motel chair and rubs at his brows, trying to free himself of the stress that has accumulated there.

“Not the point. The point is, a buddy of mine went over there, found some sulphur. So demon, obviously. When he spoke to witnesses, someone had seen a guy leave the building just before the police got there.”

Dean perks up at this. “Who was it?”

“No name, but he defiantly fits your brothers description. I've given my buddy the heads up that you'll probably be arriving fairly soon and I explained the situation, he'll be waiting.”

Dean noted down the address of the motel, thanked him and hung up. This news wasn't exactly good news. In fact it just increased his worry. What was Sam doing in a warehouse full of dead people? He put the phone back to his ear. Cas answers in his usual greeting, sending an array of butterflies floating through his stomach. He pushes the feeling away and focuses on telling Cas about the phone call.

“I'm five minuets away, won't be long,” he says and hangs up.

Dean gets to packing as quickly as he can, his and Sammy's things, and loads the car up. Cas returns not long after, pulling in next to the space beside the Impala. It looks really strange, seeing Cas drive and he has to stop himself from smirking at the image presented before him.

Without any words exchanged, they both climb into the car. Dean feels a warm feeling spread through his chest at the thought that Cas doesn't even question leaving his truck behind. Another strange thing, is that Cas has grown weirdly attached to the stupid thing. In a way Dean can relate, but if he is going to get attached to a car, it should be a decent one at least.

The silence fills the car as he pulls out of his parking space. Finally they are getting closer to finding his brother and with Cas by his side, failure isn't an option.

-Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural

Subconsciously, he knows he's been put in a dream world by the demon. He pays it no attention, basking in the joys of the dream instead. It has to be better than the horrors waiting for him in the waking world. He's currently sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, his brother next to him, music blaring. He can't find the sense to switch it off, for some reason its comforting, like being home.

Dean is singing along, the words getting lost in the space between them. He grins, a full ear to ear grin. He has no idea where they're going and he can't bring himself to care. He enjoys the sounds that assaults his ears, enjoys the rumble of the engine beneath him, and he enjoys the warm sunshine on his skin.

The music is turned down, the smile on his face doesn't drop though. “Why you grinning like an idiot?” his brother asks. When he glances across at him, he notices the fake concern for him.

“I'm allowed to be happy,” he says, turning back to face the road, propping his head up on his hand.

“Its just weird, dude.”

The music once more is turned to full volume and Sam closes his eyes, enjoying this small moment of relief. He knows that the reason he's here is because the demon is up to something, something she doesn't want him to be privy of. He isn't bothered. This is better than whatever she's got planned. It has to be.

“Where we heading again?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed. His brother doesn't hear him and he doesn't repeat the question.

The car honks loudly and he snaps his eyes open with fear. A loud bang is heard and he's propelled forward against his seatbelt. His arms reach out to stop his head from smacking on the dashboard. The car is rolling now, over and over. It feels like a very painful fair ride. He's being thrown about, left and right, up and down. His head banging on every surface. A yell comes forth, pushing through his mouth. It seems to go on forever but when the car finally stops, he struggles to get his breath. He sits there for a few minutes, gathering his strength to move and when he finally does, his first thought is his brother. He knows its a ridiculous notion, this Dean isn't real, but he needs to know all the same, only his brother isn't in the driver's seat any more.

Panic grips him tight and he quickly undoes his seatbelt. The door is stuck and he gives it an almighty kick. Its pushed outwards and he clambers out quickly. His eyes instantly search the surrounding area as he tries to ignore the pain in his muscles and the pain in his head. His brother isn't there. He can't understand what's going on. Turning in a wide circle he shouts out Dean's name, no answer. Not that he had expected one.

He runs to the road and looks up and down it. There is no other wreckage, nothing to give a reason why the car should have crashed. He frowns and shouts out for his brother again.

“Sammy?”

Turning on the spot, he sees his brother being held at knife point. Automatically he takes a step forward but freezes when the person holding the knife digs in slightly, causing a stream of red to flow from point of impact. The man has black eyes and is smirking with a devil-may-care smile. He really hates demons, like really hates them. He puts on his best scowl and tries to think of some way to get out of this. He ignores the twist in his gut and the way his heart constricts painfully.

The demon flashes his teeth and in one swift motion, slices Dean's neck. Sam's eyes go wide, his heart completely stops and the panic is there once more. The demon drops Dean to floor and vanishes. Instantly Sam rushes forward and pulls his brother's head into his lap. Sam fights back the bile rising in his throat as Dean gurgles and spits crimson blood.

This can't be happening. He can't lose his brother.

Dean's eyes flutter before they permanently close and Sam screams in anguish, shaking him, pleading with him.

Then she's there. Smiling. Dean's body disappears and he's no longer on a winding road in the middle of no where. He's awake and looking out at a motel. She starts whispering cruel things in his ear, like how this is just the beginning. She loves seeing him twist with agony. But for now she wants him to be awake for this. He tries to catch his breath, tries to stop the panic from swelling inside. If this is just the start, what else has she got planned? He can't think about that, not at the moment, not while he knows that she's got him awake for something much worse.

The motel smells damp and musty and Sam heaves, the demon doesn't even flinch as she makes her way up the corridors to a room on the third floor. She raises his leg and kicks it of its hinges. A man is standing there, looking shell-shocked, holding a gun and a flask. He doesn't know who this stranger is but he knows he's about to die.

Charging forward, the man throws water over him and Sam knows its holy water. It has no affect. She laughs hysterically using his voice and Sam cringes from the sound of it. “Is that all you've got, lover?”

The man has wide eyes and Sam knows he's trying to think of something to get away. Its going to be no use though, she's too strong. What kind of demon isn't affected my holy water? In his line of work, with everything they've been through, he knows there are plenty out there. But still? He thought that she was just some lowly demon who'd gotten lucky by bagging a Winchester. Clearly not.

She stalks towards him and the man backs up. There's nowhere for him to run. The smell of fear is strong through the room, coming of him in waves. All Sam can do is watch, watch as she gets closer, watch as she brings her hand up and grips him round the neck. For a moment, as she squeezes, sending his face blushing red and eyes popping, Sam thinks that she's just going to choke the life out of him.

The way it feels under his hand is disturbing and he wants to rip it away, but it dawns on him that she wants him to feel this, wants him to know what its like to get close to taking a life like this. An innocent life. But she has other plans. She pulls out a knife and scrapes it down the side of this man's face, blood following in its wake, while she keeps the choke hold firm. The man tries to yelp, but nothing comes out.

Sam wants to scream, wants to vomit because he knows what her plans are now.

He can feel her smirk at him, can feel that she's pleased he's finally caught on. Then she whispers in his ear.

_This is going to be so much fun._

\- Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural

Its not a long drive, although it sure as hell feels that way. The tension is thick. On Cas's part, Dean assumes its because of Sam going missing. On his part, though, its because all he can think about is pulling the car over and kissing Cas like there's no tomorrow, which there could very well not be.

Finally, he pulls up outside the motel where this dude is suppose to be staying. As he steps out of the car, he feels a relieved breath leave his body. That drive had only taken two and half hours, but it felt so much longer. He glances over at the moon. Its pitch dark now and his body is aching from the lack of sleep. When was the last time he slept?

Cas joins him on his side of the car and Dean automatically tenses. He hates and loves being close to the angel. He could probably be able to handle the normal amount of closeness, but Cas has no perception of that, and stands way to close, close enough for Dean to feel the heat coming from his body.

Dean looks over at him and their eyes lock. For a small breath nothing else matters. They are so close and all Dean has to do is lean over an inch and they would be bound at the lips. He gulps past the lump forming in his throat. On some level, he knows he needs to move, knows this isn't a good idea, especially with his brother to worry about. He just can't seem to put that thought into movement.

His heart skips a beat when Cas's eyes drop to his lips. Is he thinking the same thing? That thought doesn't sit right because that just can't be possible. Can it? Cas doesn't feel the same, there's no way he does.

When Cas looks back up, his eyes have a new determination and he takes a step back, breaking the connection of their eyes to point his blue ones right at the motel. It takes Dean a moment to get with the programme. Did they almost kiss? He can't seem to wrap his mind around that possibility, still hung up on the fact that Cas doesn't harbour any kind of emotions towards him, except friendship.

He clears his throat awkwardly and turns his own eyes to the motel. It isn't anything different to what his brother and him stay at during a hunt. Just as shabby, just as disgusting and bottom of the food chain. Heaving a sigh, he takes the lead, Cas following closely behind. He knows that the angel is probably glancing around the parking lot, eyes alert for any signs of anything out of place. Dean feels grateful for his presence. If anyone or anything jumps out at them at least Cas will have his back.

They move over to the stairs and start moving up them, his feet clanging against the metal. Two flights of stairs later, the finally reach the right door. He raps on it, the sound echoing around them. There's no answer and he gives Cas a look that says _'Odd'._ Cas returns it. This guy is suppose to be waiting for them, surely he'd answer. He raps again and listens carefully for any movement inside. Still nothing. This time Dean gives Cas a look that says _'Do your thing'_. Cas nods and holds his hand over the handle, the lock instantly springs free and the door swings open an inch.

The smell instantly hits them. Its iron-like and Dean immediately holds his arm over his face, refusing to gag in front of the angel next to him, who on his part doesn't seem all that bothered by the smell. Dean knows he can smell it because he's even more on alert than he has been. Dean reaches for his gun, clocks the trigger and pushes the door open all the way, keeping his arm firmly in place.

The room is shrouded in darkness and Dean reaches for the light switch, hesitating for only second. Does he really want to see what's in here? He pushes that fear way down deep and flicks the switch. He has to blink against the sudden brightness a couple of times. When he is able to see properly, his blood runs cold and he drops his arm, forgetting about the smell.

He wishes he never turned the damn light on. He wishes he never called any hunters for this. He wishes a lot of stuff as his eyes roam around the room. His brain can't seem to process what he's seeing properly, but he knows what it is. There is skin and blood, organs and bones, on every inch of the room.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath as he steps into the room, coming to a stop next to Dean. This was a person. This was a person being ripped to shreds… _Literally._

Dean can feel it pushing its way up from its stomach and he knows he won't be able to hold it back. He darts out of the room and retches over the side of the rail. There's nothing to come up, he hasn't eaten anything in too long, but the feeling is far from pleasant. He can feel the contents of the room all over him and he shudders from head to toe. The smell is still up his nostrils as he grips the metal bar in a white-knuckled grip.

A warm hand touches his shoulder, which only makes him shake more. Finally it all stops and he coughs, allowing the tears to leak from the corner of his eyes. All he can think, as his head is still bent over the side, is that this is all his fault. He called people in, he asked for help, this is all on him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, ridding himself of any lingering saliva. He can't bring himself to look at Cas, too aware that he's just shown a major weakness. Its embarrassing. Cas gives his shoulder a squeeze of reassurance and it calms him a little. He wonders how Cas is dealing with the sight that's behind them. Better than him, that's for sure.

“We need to leave, now.” Dean can sense the urgency in the angels voice. He can't speak, can't guarantee it wouldn't shake, so he just nods and stalks of back down the steps, across the parking lot and back to his Impala. Cas isn't far behind, keeping extra close to him, as if sensing Dean might need him soon. He won't. His legs may wobble as he walks, his fingers may tremble when he tries putting the key in the ignition, but he won't need him, not yet.

Cas barely manages to get in before Dean is peeling out of the parking lot. He needs a shower, needs to scrub away the smell and the blood that probably still clings to him, then he will get blind drunk in the hopes that he can wipe away this horrific memory.

The entire time he does, Cas is by his side, silently watching as Dean tries and fails to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	3. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait. I'm an awful person. I had a huge problem with the chapter, I was unsure where I wanted it go. But I got there in the end. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think. They always mean so much to me. Thank you to all those who have commented, followed, liked etc already. I hope it was worth the wait. 
> 
> Please enjoy...

The raging hangover bangs a whole orchestra behind his skull. He clutches at his head as he guzzles down some water, relieving himself from a parched mouth. It had been stupid of him to get crazy drunk last night, he needs to stay sober to help his brother, but those images from the other motel wouldn't leave him alone. Even now, they plague his vision.

His stomach does a funny little turn and the urge to vomit pushes forward. It won't happen, though, having nothing to bring up except maybe water. Instead, he clutches hard at his stomach in the hopes it will rid him of this feeling.

Concentrating on finding Sammy is what pushes him away from the kitchenette counter. It would be so easy to curl up on his bed and cry himself back to sleep. It would be too easy for him to break. As appealing as that idea is, he moves across the small motel room, and sits down on the edge of his bed, curling his fingers together.

Blue eyes are burning through him. He could look up, send Cas a look that says, _What?_. He knows Cas is probably worried about him. Shame floods through him. Cas wouldn't judge him for getting blind drunk, not like his brother would have. Sam would have already tried to have a _talk_ with him, would have given him the biggest bitch face he could muster. Cas isn't like that. The angel knows all of Dean's demons, knows how he struggles with the weight of the world every day. Cas wouldn't judge him, but he is most likely showing his concern for him. Dean doesn't think he can deal with that, so he keeps his eyes firmly averted to his twisted fingers in his lap.

All he can hear is the traffic on the highway in the distance. A door slams somewhere nearby and Cas is silent, watching him. The urge to send him a _look_ is pulsing strong, driving him to twist his fingers together harder, making them white from the pressure. If he looks at Cas, he will certainly give into the care the angel is offering and he can't do that. He can't allow that because he shouldn't have gotten blind drunk last night, he shouldn't have clouded his mind like that, not when his brother needs him.

This silence is stifling. He should say something, anything to break it. He can' think of something logical to say, his head still bangs like a drum. A wave of nausea passes through him again and he closes his eyes tightly, waiting for it to pass. When it finally does, he opens his eyes again, only to find Cas standing right in front of him. All Dean can see is his black dress pants, his white shirt, blue tie and that damn trench coat. He waits for Cas to say something or do something, keeping his eyes firmly on his mid-section. If he looks up to his face, he would get lost there, just another thing he can't allow.

After a moment, Cas holds out his arm and Dean spots him holding a small tub of pills. Dean lets out a shaky breath at the offer. Cas is an angel, he never has do deal with human conceptions, which makes this offer incredibly special, because he senses Dean's physical pain and all he wants to do is help.

Cautiously, he reaches up to take the tub, their fingers brushing as he grips it. He pauses, waiting for Cas to release it, but he doesn't. And Dean can't hold back any more. Drifting his eyes upwards, he latches them onto Cas's face, and what he knew would happen actually happens. It feels like he's falling and his heart automatically speeds up, his breaths are coming out harsher than he would have liked. Cas isn't looking at him with judgement, just like he'd assumed, but he isn't looking at him with concern or pity or anything else. His eyes are soft, understanding. Of course, Cas understands where Dean has been for the past eight hours and he gets it.

He doesn't quite know what to do with this look, or how he should proceed. All he can see is Cas, all he can feel is his warm fingers touching his. Even his pounding headache has taken a back seat now. There is a flutter in his stomach as Cas makes the move first, kneeling in front of him and still not letting go of the painkillers. Dean watches with nervousness as Cas's eyes scan across his face, as though he is searching for something in particular. Dean doesn't know what he would be searching for, a sign that he's okay, maybe.

After too long, Cas releases the bottle. Dean doesn't like the feeling inside him when this happens, he doesn't like the coldness of it. He expects Cas to move away, to put some distance between them, he doesn't, he just keeps watching him, searching, making Dean shift slightly. He can't begin to even imagine what must be going through his head. He had looked so weak, so broken last night and he hates how Cas had witnessed it.

“Are you okay?” Dean jumps slightly at the whispered words, making his heart work harder than it should need to.

Licking his dry lips, he nods. Finding words has always been hard for him, even with Sam, and he finds it even harder to form a coherent sentence while looking into Cas's eyes. He shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't be left feeling like his brain has melted. He does though. He scans his eyes across Cas's face. He's doing the head tilt thing with narrowed eyes, looking like he really doesn't believe Dean. His hair is all scruffy and Dean's fingers twitch with the need of running them across his scalp. He manages to resist. Cas wouldn't appreciate that, he might even go as far as smiting him if necessary. The angel isn't use to his to touch, not like that anyway. Inside he feels like he's weeping like Niagara Falls, on the outside he forces a smile to curl his lips. He thinks Cas knows it might be fake, but thankfully doesn't question him further. Nodding himself, he stands and turns his back to him.

“We need to find Sam as quick as possible, if last night is anything to go by.” Cas sounds so matter-of-fact about it, it leaves Dean wondering what he's thinking, wondering where the warm Castiel has disappeared to.

Dean attempts to stand on shaky legs, but falls back down to the soft bed. He grumbles a curse word under his breath. _How long can I keep this up for?_ Feeling like he's at the end of his tether now, he closes his eyes and tries to rearrange his thoughts so they don't seem so scattered. First to be organised is his missing brother and coming to the conclusion that he is fucking possessed and killing people. Then he saw what Sam did last night and got hammered from whisky, now feeling a banging headache and the urge to vomit. Now, his feelings for Cas seem to be pushing their way closer and closer to the surface. This close proximity they have going on isn't helping. Normally he would deal with Cas for a few hours and then spend days pushing his feelings back down where they belong. Now they are spending every waking moment together, trying to get Sam back, he's not had any time to deal with it all yet. How much longer can he really do this for? How much longer till he loses his control?

He opens his eyes to find Cas staring at him again, a worried frown on his face. Dean lets out a sigh, trying to push all his rolling emotions away, far enough away to allow him space to concentrate on Sammy. With a new determination, he stands, his knees almost buckle, but he manages to stay upright. Cas glances down at his legs, then back up to his face, his frown deepening.

“Are you sure you're okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, man, lets do this.” His voice sounds croaky, like he hasn't drunk enough water. He mentally slaps himself for sounding too weak and walks over to where the laptop sits on the table. He fires it up and looks back at Cas. He immediately regrets it because he can clearly see Cas doesn't believe him one bit, looking like he wants to push for answers. Before Cas can ask him anything, he pushes on. “What have you been doing all night?” He needs to know if Cas has made any progress, knowing full well that Cas wouldn't just sit there doing nothing while he slept, he would be searching for something, anything to help.

Cas's frown disappears, his eyes darting to the beds, looking guilty as sin. Dean frowns himself and just waits. “I, uh...” Cas is nervous, worried, shameful and it has Dean quite baffled. “I haven't found anything.”

Dean is sure there is more to that, but lets it go. He's troubled enough without having to add extra to the list, so he pretends he doesn't see anything out of the ordinary and looks at the computer again.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't working on finding Sam.”

Dean snaps his head up, eyes round, mouth open slightly. This isn't Cas, he wouldn't just not work on it. Something else is happening and it leaves him feeling irked because he doesn't know what's going on with his friend. “What?” he manages to squeak out, standing up and closing the distance between them.

Cas won't look at him as he shuffles from foot to foot, his body tense. “I… I had some thinking to do.”

“Thinking?” Astonishment runs through Dean's veins as he tries to catch Cas's eyes. He fails. “Thinking about what? What could possibly be more important than finding Sam?” He's not angry, even if he is a bit snappy, he's more confused than anything. Helping them is what Cas does, he loves to help, so for him to tell him he'd been thinking instead… it must be something big.

Cas's eyes snap to his, pinning him to the spot, his brows once more joined. “I wouldn't say it is more important, exactly.”

Dean crosses his arms, trying to cage in the animal that wants to be let free. He hates not knowing, especially if he thinks he can help. “Tell me what's wrong and don't spare the details.”

Cas starts to look shifty again which doesn't help Dean's anger problems. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

Eyeing Cas for a moment, he tries to think what could possibly have him so unfocused. Being an angel, Castiel is familiar with war and battle, all things mission oriented. So, why is he so distracted? Wanting to push, to find out, to help his friend, he steps closer, watching for any signs that Cas is going to back off. He doesn't, he keeps his feet firmly planted to the floor, his eyes once more darting to the beds. He desperately tries to keep a lid on his anger, his frustration, because that won't help him here, it would only serve to push the angel away.

“You can tell me anything, Cas, you know that.” He manages to keep his voice soft, not wanting to scare the other man away, not wanting him to shut himself off, like he's done so many times before. Those times, when Dean has pushed too hard, bad things had come from it. Not this time. He won't allow it.

Cas lets out a weary sigh as if this conversation is weighing him down. Dean waits patiently, hoping and praying that his best friend would open up, to tell him what's wrong. A wave of helplessness washes through him, making his headache pound that much harder. He hates feeling helpless, has always lived to help and protect his family. To stand here and watch a member of his family wage a war inside of himself like this… its too hard because all he wants is to wrap him up tightly and tell him everything will be okay, even if it will never be again, he wants to offer that reassurance.

“I know, Dean,” he finally says, still refusing to look at him. “If I thought you could help, I would tell you. But you can't.” Cas flashes his eyes back to Dean. “Let's concentrate on finding Sam.”

Letting out his own sigh, he nods his acceptance, even if the urge to push is vibrating through him. He can't force him to talk, not if he doesn't want to. Sometimes Dean thinks that Cas is just as stubborn as he is, a true Winchester is every sense of the word. Without saying much more, he moves over to the laptop again and starts typing.

His mind should be solely focused on finding his brother, but its not. Its there at the back of his mind as he numbly goes through his search results, his eyes unseeing as they scan back and forth. At the front, though, is Cas and how Dean could possibly help him. What's been going on? Here he is having a crisis in so many different ways, making it all about finding Sam and keeping his feelings buried deep, that he hadn't even realised that his best friend was having his own crisis. The guilt twists a knot in his gut and he swallows thickly. What a shitty person he is. It has always been the same. It always went in the same direction. Sam and Dean would wallow in their self-pity and their own battles, and Cas would be so concerned about helping them, saving them, that his own problems would go unnoticed.

No more. He isn't going to let it happen again.

With too much force, he pushes the chair backwards, the sound of scraping wood on tile screeches through the room. Cas snaps his head up, a question in his eyes. Dean takes no notice of it as he closes the distance between them. With trembling hands, he grips tightly to the angel's shoulder's. He doesn't know the reason for the shakiness. It could be nerves, it could be frustration. Either way, he ignores it.

Their eyes lock. “I need to know you're okay. Talk to me, please.” He knows it sounds like begging, but if it gets Cas to open up to him, he would gladly do it again.

With his heart in his throat, he watches from the outlines as Cas contemplates his request, his blue eyes searching his face as though he is trying to figure out a very difficult problem. The silence stretches on and it takes everything in Dean not to push more. Cas needs his patience right now, not some miss-guided anger.

Finally when Cas speaks, his voice is soft. “I'm worried about you. You didn't take what happened yesterday very well.”

Dean releases his shoulders, narrowing his eyes in on him, his heart sinking at those words. “Yeah. I know. But that's not what kept you from finding Sam. That's not what's on your mind. So how about the truth?” Watching him shift uncomfortably brought a lot of painful memories back and the terror of that, the panic came on strong. “Just… tell me its something I don't need to worry about… just tell me its not something bad.”

Cas flickers his eyes to his and softens them. “No, Dean. Its nothing like that.”

He lets out a breath in a rush, the air whistling between his teeth, his chest easing up, shoulders relaxing. “So, what is it then?”

“I can't. Please. I don't want you to… hate me. Let's forget about it and move on. I apologise for last night. It won't happen again.”

Two options: he could either keep pushing and make him angry or he could forget about it and get on with trying to find Sam. “Okay. If you need to talk or it gets so bad that you need my help, I'm here, man.”

Cas's lips curl upwards, his eyes glinting. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Nodding, he moves back to the laptop. His worry for the angel is still there, gnawing away at his insides, but pushing it to the back of his mind, he allows his other concern to take front and centre. Finding Sammy.

He manages to concentrate better now, but Cas's words still manage to echo round his brain as the worry continues to eat away at him.

_I don't want you to hate me._

-Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural

For now, the demon is keeping its distance from his brother and for that he couldn't be more grateful. The only thing that matters is keeping it that way. He watches as the demon tortures and kills people. Many, many people. People of different ages, people of different ethnicity, people of good and bad intent. It doesn't matter to the demon, a kill is a kill.

Of course, it bothers Sam. Most of the people don't deserve it and, if he ever gets out of this alive, he will lose many nights sleep over it. Reasoning and logic prevail, though. He knows its not really him doing all these things, knows that he's just taking a back seat to it all. The guilt and self-loathing comes from a different place. He should have known better, he shouldn't have gotten himself caught like this. His mind constantly wars with itself. While the one side tells him that this is his fault for getting caught, the other side tells him that none of this is his fault because the demon probably would have done it anyway, no matter what meat suit she is wearing.

Most of the time, the demon keeps him tightly locked away, not wanting him to see any of the important bits. Usually she just lets him out when she wants to play with her toys. This time is different. This time she lets him out to see. He comes to, standing in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, and for a moment he wonders why it is always these places that draw in the evil. Then he notices the demons gathered around him, watching him with cautious eyes, terror filled eyes. Nobody is saying anything as he starts to pace up and down the length. He tries to count how many demons are here, and he gets to twenty-three before he loses count and has to start again.

The silence is piercing. Not a single demon is willing to break it. Sam can only assume that the demon inside of him has just been told something and nobody is sure how she is taking it. He does the only thing he can think of, he zones in on the demon's feelings, emotions. Is she happy? Angry? This is one advantage he has that the other demons don't.

It shocks him to find that she isn't just happy, she is practically jumping with joy. Something they have told her, their report, has made her practically joyful and he can't understand why. What is it they told her? If she is allowing him to be awake for this, its because whatever these low-level demons have told her is going to affect him immensely. Is it to do with his brother? God, he really, really hopes not. He feels sick just thinking it, but he knows that this is probably what it is.

He comes to a stand still and looks across at the faces before him. They are all still watching with caution, unsure of his next move. Then he smiles, his lips turning up slowly, showing his white teeth.

“Oh, I am pleased,” he finally says and Sam can see all the demons physically relax. “This is going to be so much fun. At first I thought, this is bad, very bad. But actually… I really can't wait.”

A demon steps forward, head bowed, shaking slightly. “Beg your pardon, sir-”

“Madam. I may be possessing a guy, but I'm still a woman at heart.”

The demon nods his understanding. “Sorry, Madam. Surely, this is a bad thing.”

Sam feels his smile widen as he claps the demon on the shoulder. “On the contrary, it can be a very good thing.” He takes a step back and addresses the rest of the room, while the demon goes back to formation. “This meat suit I'm wearing, Sam Winchester, knows a lot of things, some very interesting things, things I'm going to use to my advantage. When I'm through, Dean Winchester is going to wish I will just hurry up and kill him. He will be so full of self-hatred. He will never be able to look at his family and his friends in the eye again.”

“But sir, I mean, Madam,” says the same demon who spoke before. “What of the angel, Castiel? I'm sure he won't allow this.”

Sam's ears pick up at the name of his friend. Cas? Surely Dean wouldn't have called him in, not for a small demon problem like this. At least, they thought it had been small, now Sam can see things in a whole other light.

“Yes. At first I thought Castiel being here might have been a problem to my plans. But, in fact, I can work with it. Because when I'm through, Castiel is going to want to be as far away from Dean Winchester as possible.”

Sam's heart drops and panic surges forward. What the hell does that mean?


End file.
